“And what do I get?” she asked with bold directness.

One brow rose even higher. His eyes widened with his surprise.

Rosie hurried on before he had time to grow angry. “Ye say ye need me to help ye reap a bloody great fortune. What do I get in return?”

Sir Andrew folded his hands and looked up to the sloping roof of his tent as if he prayed to the Almighty for advice. “What would you like?” he finally asked. “Ribbons? Laces? A new gown?” He tapped the plate of tempting marchpane between them. “More sweetmeats?”

She shrugged away his limpid offers. “I was given ribbons and sweets once before and it came to nothing. That reeky coxcomb tricked me even though he wore pretty clothes and smelled so clean.” She pushed Simon’s lying handsome face out of her memory.

Sir Andrew cocked his head. “How now? And what, pray tell, did this rascal trick you out of?” he purred.

“My—” Rosie stopped herself before she blurted out the fearful truth. Her presumed virginity was the only ploy she had. “Something that was mine to give and not his to take.”

“Ahhh!” Andrew nodded as if he understood exactly what she meant. “So if you do not require fripperies and sweets for your reward, what do you have in mind?”

She took a deep breath. “Profit. Ye pay me a part of your winnings so that I can be my own self and beholden to no man. Tis what I want.”

“Independence.” His expression changed and became more sober. “I perceive that you are a woman of business, Rosie. Therefore, allow me to make you this offer. I will put a penny into your account for every lesson of mine that you learn correctly.”

She licked her lips. “I be a fast learner, my lord.”

He gave her a look of faint amusement. “And I will take away one penny for every mistake you make. Are we agreed?”

She felt as if he had dropped an icicle down her back. “Fie upon it, my lord! I cannot help making mistakes. Haint ever seen a lady close up.”

His full lips quirked with humor. “Very well, I will grant you three errors. After that, one penny gone.” He whistled to illustrate her new fortune flying out of his tent. “Now, are we agreed?”

Rosie crossed her arms over her breasts. “Hold, Sir Andrew. How will I know if I have a penny or not? I see no pennies on the table. I will not be cozened with your flowery speeches.”

He tapped the side of his nose with his forefinger. “A good point.”

He pushed back his chair and rose. He padded across the rug to another one of his chests, opened it and rummaged through a great quantity of clothing. Rosie craned her neck to see what he was looking for. He had more clothes in that one box than her whole family had ever possessed. At last, he withdrew a slate and a thick piece of chalk. He kicked the lid shut, then returned to the table.

“This is your account, Rosie,” he said, tapping the slate. “Whenever you have earned your wage, I will make a stroke on it like so.” He drew a fat line. “If you lose a penny, I will erase it—like so.” He smudged the line with his thumb until there was nothing left but a splotch of chalk.

Rosie said nothing, but she eyed the account board. No one had ever taken her so seriously, nor even acknowledged that she was good for anything except as a drudge or a whore.

He propped the slate against a stack of books on a side coffer. “We will keep your account here, so that you may peruse it—that is, look at it—whenever you wish. Do my terms meet with your approval?”

She could only nod. Excitement welled up within her. The future opened before her like a flower-strewn high road.

“Aye? Then let us shake hands upon it.” He held his out to her.

Rosie wiped her greasy fingers on the front of her shirt, then gave him her hand. In formal silence, they shook upon their bargain, but afterward he refused to let go. Instead, he turned her hand over and studied her palm and nails like a blacksmith before shoeing a horse.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Rosie, nail biting is a nasty habit. I will take away a—”

She tensed and curled her fingers into a ball. She hadn’t even earned a penny yet, and he already threatened her with debt. She knew she should never have trusted him.

He looked at her annoying amusement. “I shall take away a halfpenny for each infraction.”

Rosie tried to snatch her hand away from him. “Infrac…what?”

He chuckled. “For each time you bite your nail’s.”

She gasped. “I be out a shilling’s worth afore this night is gone!”

“Ladies do not chew on their nails, Rosie.”

“Haint a lady,” she reminded him, twisting out of his grasp.

His eyes gleamed in the low candlelight. “Not yet, but by all that is holy, you will be!”

Chapter Five

The hubbub of the great English encampment settled into muted revels as the night reached its midpoint. Andrew saw that Rosie fought to keep her eyes open, but the lure of Morpheus fast overwhelmed her. From what she had told him, it had been a hellish day for the lass. The hours of anxiety together with the large supper and the quantity of wine she had consumed had finally taken their toll. Still, she forced herself to stay awake in an effort to preserve the virtue that he knew had already been taken from her. He gave Rosie full marks for the effort, and vowed to add an extra penny to her account.

Rosie’s head bobbed. She desperately needed her sleep. He had a full day planned for her on the morrow. He smiled to himself. He could not remember passing such a enjoyable evening as this one for a long time— especially when he had no intention of bedding his fair company. He sighed over his self-imposed denial. Truly, the pretty creature was extremely enticing.

Rosie blinked and yawned without bothering to cover her mouth. Andrew shook himself from his pleasant reverie. He stood, stretched, then yawned loudly for her benefit.

“What be ye a-doing?” she asked in that velvet-edged voice of hers.

He drank in her sweet tone. Rosie had no idea how seductive she sounded, especially when laced with wine. “Preparing for repose,” he replied in a forced, lighthearted manner. “Going to bed—and so should you, my dear.”

Her upper lip curled back. “Aha! Just like a man! Ye make lovely promises one minute then take them back with interest the next.”

Andrew furrowed his brow. He had no clear idea what Rosie meant or why her mood had changed once again. He was far too tired to begin another argument with her now.

She gripped the edge of the table. “Ye told me that ye did not buy a woman for your pleasure, yet now ye be a-talking about going to bed.”

Andrew groaned inwardly. He thought he had settled this particular sticking point already. “To sleep, Rosie. Perchance to dream. Tis been a most fatiguing day, though I admit that you have made the evening stimulating.” Much too stimulating.

He ambled toward the four-poster bed that Jeremy had prepared. The swans-down pillows had been plumped just the way he liked them. The sheets of softest lawn had been sprinkled with lavender water to discourage both fleas and odors of the night. A coverlet of mint green taffeta lay folded at the bed’s foot. Taken altogether, his makeshift bedchamber beckoned with irresistible invitation to his tired body.

Rosie struggled to her feet and gripped the center tent pole to steady herself. “Ye are a-going to sleep?”

He yawned. “Aye, tis my sole intent at this particular moment.”

She blinked like an owlet. “Then where do I go?”

Andrew lifted one of the lanterns and shed its light into the second chamber’s far corner. “There.” He pointed to Jeremy’s truckle bed.

Rosie closed her eyes and sagged against the pole. Andrew moved closer in case she collapsed, but she rallied before he touched her. Without a word, she scurried to the cot, pulled back the cover and tucked herself between the sheets.